


The King of Coffee

by High_Lady_of_Terrasen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5 year time skip, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Areadbhar the legendary coffee frother, Bisexual Claude von Riegan, Byleth has big titties, Claude von Riegan is a Little Shit, Coffee, Coffeeshop AU, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is Not Okay, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Garreg Mach Monastery (Fire Emblem), Garreg Mach University, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lots of Angst, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, My Unit | Byleth Is Doing Their Best, My Unit | Byleth Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sylvain Jose Gautier Needs A Hug, Sylvain Needs To Stop Being a Hoe Even Though He's Only a Fake Hoe, This Is STUPID, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Trauma, Wait yes beta but we still die like Glenn, attempted comedy, claude/literally everyone, dimileth, dimitri is a sad boi, help me, i caught the dimileth bug, ignatz the art kid, no beta we die like Glenn, then he grows up and is a hot sad boi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/High_Lady_of_Terrasen/pseuds/High_Lady_of_Terrasen
Summary: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, a freshman at Garreg Mach University, has a shit life. A hundred kinds of messed up and deadset on avenging his family's brutal deaths, Dimitri feels utterly alone in his grief. He can't sleep, he hallucinates, and most of all, he wears a mask of lies for the world around him. However, forced to work as a barista to maintain the expenses of his college education, Dimitri is dubbed the King of Coffee, his drink-making skills uncontested and unstoppable with his legendary frother, Areadbhar. When Garreg Mach's newest professor catches wind of the famed espresso royalty, she decides she must judge His Majesty's skill for herself.Basically, if this fic was an oreo, comedy and an actual plot would be the cookies, and angst would be the cream.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Mercedes von Martritz, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Dorothea Arnault/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Glenn Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Ignatz Victor, Marianne von Edmund/Leonie Pinelli, Mercedes von Martritz/Dedue Molinaro, Petra Macneary/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 25
Kudos: 83
Collections: Dimileth





	1. The Daily Grind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So I'm pretty new to this fandom, but I finished Blue Lions a couple of weeks ago and caught the Dimileth bug BAD. And then this little idea of Dimitri wearing a barista uniform popped into my head, and this happened... Warning: there may be some spoilers for Azure Moon, beware. Also, I'm a crackhead so this fic will probably end up a mess. This is my first *real* attempt to write a full fanfiction, so bear with me. The rating may go up later if the romance escalates and I grow the balls to write smut (which I probably won't, but it's a possibility). Anywayyyyyyy, enjoy :)

“Welcome to The Faerghus Grind, how may I help you?”

The busty redhead on the other side of the counter ogled Dimitri’s defined arms and chest in his tight barista uniform shirt over her Gucci sunglasses with a little too much vigor to be polite.

“Whatever’s good here” the woman replied with a sensual smirk and enough innuendo to make Dimitri want to vomit.

Dimitri sighed. _So, it was going to be one of **those** days…_

Dimitri’s job was…a bit lackluster. Being a barista was certainly not his first choice when it came to occupations, but he had to take what he could get, seeing as the financial burden of college fell completely on his shoulders. You know, because his whole family was dead, and he couldn’t receive his inheritance until he was 25… While his scholarships covered most of the cost, Garreg Mach University was not cheap in the least, and working was his only way to pay the rest of his fees. So, he spent three days a week working at a local coffee shop wearing this _ridiculous_ barista uniform. Why his manager, Catherine, insisted on it being so outrageously tight, Dimitri had no idea…

“Do you prefer your drinks to be sweet or bitter?” Dimitri asked, forcing a polite smile onto his face.

“Mmmmmm, I like them strong,” the Gucci bimbo purred with a rasp that the blonde barista assumed was supposed to be sexy, but was purely revolting to him.

“How about a double shot hazelnut latte?” Dimitri deliberated with a saccharine smile, trying to mask his impatience. _Goddess, he was tired of all of these advances on him. Why did he have to endure the leering of every dumb blonde and floozie in this goddess-forsaken university? He was just trying to work, for Sothis’ sake…_

Somehow sticking her chest and ass out even farther than before, the redhead finally took a break from undressing him with her eyes long enough to purr, “sounds _delicious.” Kill me now,_ Dimitri thought. The voices in his head were not very happy at this thought.

 _“You can die after you’ve avenged us,”_ Glenn bit back. This wasn’t the first time this week that Dimitri thought that his job may be distracting him too much from the goal that he should be focusing on, the one his family wouldn’t let him forget.

Blinking rapidly, Dimitri scraped himself from the deep, dark pit that was his mind. _That way madness lies…_

“That would be $6.27,” Dimitri deadpanned.

* * *

Finally relieved of his cashier duties, Dimitri was in his element. He was the King of Coffee, after all. Even his name tag said so, the simple “Dimitri” one long since replaced after Sylvain caught wind of his little nickname.

Speaking of Sylvain… Dimitri glanced over at his lanky redheaded friend, who was now working the cash register, much to both of their delights (Dimitri didn’t have to suffer through the incessant flirting and Sylvain was presented with plenty of opportunities to womanize). He was currently in the process of wooing a pretty brunette girl, who seemed a bit scandalized by the attention she was getting.

“What will it be, beautiful? Perhaps a white chocolate mocha as sweet as you are? Or maybe you’d prefer if we made something special for you?” Mr. Suave, as usual, was terrorizing the female population of Garreg Mach.

Blushing profusely, the girl replied with just a hint of a smile at Sylvain’s compliment. _Oh Goddess, another one charmed…_ “Um, I, I’ll have a snickerdoodle latte.”

“Coming right up!” Dimitri’s devious friend winked fiendishly and scrawled the order on a cup, passing it off to Dimitri.

To his dismay (and slight amusement), Sylvain had written “Girlfriend Material” for the poor girl’s name, with his number and “call me” with a winky face scribbled underneath. Dimitri rolled his eyes with exasperation and cracked his knuckles. _Showtime._

Unscrewing the cap from a jug of milk, Dimitri tilted his head very slightly, sticking out his tongue in concentration as he poured precisely 1.5 cups into a metal cup. With the tiniest upward curl of his lips, the blonde attached the cup to the steamer and switched it on, listening to the satisfying hiss of heating milk. In the meantime, Dimitri neatly flipped a single shot of espresso into the “Girlfriend Material” cup, following it with 2 pumps of vanilla syrup, precisely 2 tablespoons of brown sugar, and a dash of cinnamon, finishing this process just as the milk reached its proper temperature. Now, for the fun part. Glancing up briefly, Dimitri noticed that he had accumulated a bit of a crowd, several drooling girls and even a few appreciative men marveling at his impressive barista skills. He smirked, if only just a bit. Grabbing Areadbhar, his legendary milk frother, Dimitri whipped the steaming milk into foamy perfection before pouring it into the logoed travel cup, watching with satisfaction as the drink mixed beautifully. After topping it off with a sprinkling of cinnamon, Dimitri popped the lid on and slipped the cup into a sleeve. Done with his concoction, he passed it off to Dorothea, who glared briefly at Sylvain before announcing that the drink was ready.

“I have a Snickerdoodle Latte for… um… Girlfriend Material.”

Dimitri found his snickering to be quite fitting in this situation.

As the brunette girl stepped forward to retrieve her drink, a light blush spread across her cheeks, her eyes attempting to peer into Dimitri’s soul. He facepalmed and pointed at Sylvain, who gave “Girlfriend Material” a raunchy wink. The girl suddenly looked a little less enthused.

As she made to sit down at one of the various tables in the café, she took a small sip of her coffee and _froze._

Turning back to face Dimitri, as if in slow motion, a crazed look came over her face. Dimitri panicked, if only just a little. _Had he not mixed her drink correctly? No, it wasn’t that, he had made her latte with absolute precision._ Still, the girl’s look filled Dimitri’s stomach with churning marbles of apprehension as she strode closer and closer to the uniform-clad barista. The brunette suddenly shot her arms out across the counter separating them and latched her hands onto Dimitri’s shoulders. Rather than aggressive, like he had expected, though, her grip was almost…reverent.

“This. Is. The. Best. Coffee. I. Have. Ever. Had.” The crazed glint never once left her eye as she spoke, leaving Dimitri a bit shell-shocked. Digging around briefly in her purse, “Girlfriend Material” quickly slipped out a $10 and tucked it into Dimitri’s apron pocket. “Goddess, you certainly are the King of Coffee,” she cried in utter amazement. And then promptly proceeded to pass out, a look of bliss still etched upon her face.

_Goddess, could this shift get any weirder?_


	2. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth is asked to be Garreg Mach's newest professor and fencing coach. In the madness of her situation, she can't help but remember how she got there in the first place...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so, so much for all of the positive response to my last chapter! I honestly wasn't expecting so many people to like my wack story, but I'm so glad that y'all do. So this chapter definitely has a completely different tone than the last one. This one is Byleth's POV, and I may have gotten a little carried away... Especially with the fencing part, which totally wasn't an excuse to conduct "research" by rereading Fence and watching Miraculous Ladybug... Anyway, this chapter is quite a bit longer than the first one and doesn't really get into the coffeeshop element... yet. Trust me, it is coming, though. I have Byleth's first trip to The Faerghus Grind completely planned out in my brain :) Keep in mind that this chapter is completely unbetaed and unedited. It's 3:38 am and I'm too tired to read through all 4000 words that I cranked out today.

This day could not get any crazier.

“So let me get this straight,” Byleth said, utterly baffled, “you want me to work as a professor _and_ the fencing coach as a first-year grad student—and not just a normal first-year grad student, but a 20-year-old grad student who would be younger than some of her students?”

Rhea stared back at the dumbstruck young woman in front of her in earnest. “Well, the circumstances certainly _are_ a bit… unconventional, but yes.”

Byleth Eisner could not believe what she was hearing. “This is more than just _unconventional!_ I don’t understand how I am qualified to do this in any way. Is this even allowed?” Despite the strength of her conviction, one would never have been able to tell by the tone of her voice, seemingly monotone, creating a strange dichotomy with her words. The older woman only tsked, her silky, mint-colored hair swishing.

“I can appoint whomever I wish as a professor. I am the Dean of this establishment, after all.” Rhea sent Byleth a sweet smile, her utter belief in the young woman before her shining unmistakably in her seafoam green eyes—a belief that Byleth would never understand. The Dean had seemed to take an immediate, illogical liking to Byleth from the moment she had set foot in her office as a 16-year-old anomaly, so young to be starting college, especially as an athlete. Her father had stood just behind her, offering all of his fatherly support with a single large hand on her shoulder. With such a train of thought rushing across the tracks of her mind, Byleth couldn’t help but think back to how this had all begun…

* * *

_Byleth had been having that dream again, the one with that strange green-haired girl on her golden throne, when her father had shaken her awake. Except, this time, the dream had been different. The girl had awoken from her slumber, her bright green eyes full of endless wisdom and curiosity. “It is almost… time to… begin…” the girl had muttered sleepily, her cryptic words startling Byleth to her core._

_“Hey, Kid. Time to wake up.” As Byleth slowly cracked her eyes open, she saw her father’s kind, haunted whiskey-colored eyes peering down at her, a small smile on his lined face. He was already dressed for the day, despite it hardly being dawn, and stood back to his full height, hands on his hips as he saw her wake._

_As Byleth stood up herself, she couldn’t help but ponder the little girl’s words._ What was beginning? Who was the little girl? Why did she dream of her? Why was she suddenly awake? _Seeing her far-away look, Jeralt looked at his daughter with concern, his normally stern features softening. “Were you having that dream again?”_

_Still caught up in her own reverie, Byleth replied softly, her dark blue eyes fixed somewhere on the wall just above Jeralt’s left shoulder. “I was dreaming about a young girl…” She had never been the type to lie. She never really saw any reason to. In fact, she had been told a few times by her father’s friends that she was overly blunt, but she couldn’t really help it. It was just part of her nature._

_Though her seeming lack of emotion worried her father just a bit, he had learned to read her feelings in her eyes. This dream seemed to have stirred up some worry in Byleth, which was a rare occurrence. Closing his eyes in thought, Jeralt ran his hand through his honey-colored hair, racking his memory for any inkling of a young, green-haired girl and coming up short. “You’ve described her to me before. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that.” He wished he could tell his daughter otherwise. She lived a bit of a lonely life, always on the road due to his job as a bounty hunter, growing up without a mother, homeschooled by him and his bounty guild… She’d never had the opportunity to make friends like a normal kid should, and he regretted it more and more every day. However, she strangely never seemed to mind, outwardly unaffected by such a life. Dispelling his worries, he glanced back at his daughter, trying to get back on topic._

_“In any case, just put that out of your mind for now. A fencing tournament is no place for idle thoughts.”_ Right, the tournament… Byleth had nearly forgotten in her musings about the girl on the throne. _“Fencing is a competition, remember. Letting your mind wander is a sure way to let your opponent get the upper hand.”_

_Byleth nodded at her father, a fierce look of determination in her eye, her wavy, deep blue hair swishing with the conviction of her motion. Her father cracked a small smile. “That’s the spirit,” he said, giving her a loving slap on the back._

_“Ok, time to get moving. Your tournament starts in 4 hours, and you’re not even dressed yet. I told you before, it’s far from here, so we’ll need to leave in the next half hour. You can’t win nationals if you don’t show up on time, Kid.” With that, Jeralt flashed one last smile and left Byleth to get ready._

_Half an hour later, the pair pulled out of the parking lot of the motel they had been staying in, Byleth in her fencing uniform with a duffel bag at her feet, her saber inside. She’d polished it until it shone last night, leaving not an inch of it unscrubbed. “Are you ready?” Jeralt broke the silence after an hour of only the sounds of the road and his old Jeep’s rumblings._

_Byleth simply nodded, her face completely expressionless save for her eyes, which exuded an unrelenting focus. After two and a half hours of driving, Jeralt finally pulled the car into the lot of a massive convention center. Byleth took a deep breath and grabbed her duffle bag, slinging it over her shoulder and striding towards the nearest entrance to the building. Slipping out of the driver’s seat and locking the Jeep, Jeralt followed his daughter, looming behind her as if to scare off anyone who dared approach her (incidentally, this was exactly the reason for his looming)._

_The convention center was full of young fencers from all across Fódlan, the best of the best in foil, saber, and épée. Byleth was trained in all three, but excelled the most at saber, where she had the freedom to not only strike her opponents with the tip of the blade, but also the edge, and could wield the lightweight weapon with exhilarating speed. She wasn’t the biggest fan of foil, with its many rules and restricted target area, and couldn’t always beat her taller opponents in épée with her shorter reach and without the advantage of being able to slash with the edge of her weapon, but saber—saber was her bread and butter, and she was absolutely unmatched._ Which is what she was here to prove…

_Glancing around, Byleth noticed, not for the first time, that almost every fencer she saw was part of a prestigious club, with fancy uniforms to match. From the Black Eagles of Adrestria to the Golden Deer of Leicester to the famed Blue Lions of Faerghus (whom she greatly admired), she was surrounded by the elites of the fencing world. It seemed that she alone was unaffiliated, standing in her plain white uniform with the collar undone. Her shoes were nothing fancy, only what they could afford, and seemed so dull in comparison to the shiny and colorful sneakers of the other contestants. But all this was of no consequence. Byleth had the skill and resolve to beat them all without a shred of remorse. She was, after all, the famed Ashen Demon, who won with no mercy and a blank stare, said to be emotionless in her victories and ruthless in her fighting. She was a little bothered by the things whispered about her, but her reputation served its purpose._

_Finding an empty area in the corner, Byleth tossed her bag to the ground and began to stretch, envisioning her bouts in her mind as she always did before a big tournament. Lunge, parry, riposte, counterattack. The piste was her battlefield, and she was an unstoppable force, like a warrior of old. Her body was honed to strike, and strike first. She had trained for endless hours with her father, enduring brutal training sessions that had seemed as if they would never end. She had made it this far without the help of any prestigious club, her father, the famed Blade Breaker, her only instructor. He had taught her well. She would not lose._

_Finishing her stretch, she stood up once again, turning to her father. “Have they posted the match list yet?”_

_Jeralt looked up from his cell phone, where he had obviously been corresponding with his bounty-hunting partners based on his grimace. “No, not yet. They are supposedly supposed to go up in about 15 minutes. If you want, we could start walking that direction.” Byleth nodded at her father, who stood up and followed her around the massive labyrinthine building. She was so grown up now. His baby girl was becoming a woman, and she looked so much like his late wife that it almost brought him to tears sometimes._ Oh, if only you could see her now, Sitri. You would be so proud…

 _“Do you know the details of this tournament? I’ve never been to nationals before…”_ Was that concern that Jeralt sensed? _His face broke into a small smile at the thought. It brought him an illogical magnitude of joy when his daughter was able to emote, if only just a little bit. Flat affect, the doctors had called it when he’d rushed his daughter to a physician as a baby when he’d been so worried about his infant that didn’t cry._ What kind of baby doesn’t cry, or smile, or even laugh? _He’d always loved Byleth, despite her lack of emotion, and he knew she loved him as well. Still, he hoped she could one day find a way to express her heart._

_“Yes. As long as it hasn’t changed in the past few years, you will compete in a total of 15 bouts, assuming you make it to the finals. The first 8 will be round-robin style within your heat, and the contestant with the most wins in the group will move forward to a new pool. There, you will fight in 4 double elimination matches, the winners moving into a winner’s bracket and the losers to a consolation bracket. The quarter-finals, semifinals, and final match will all be single elimination.” This was a bit more complicated than any of the other tournaments Byleth had ever competed in, to say the least._

_“Wow. Sounds… thorny.” Jeralt chuckled, his laugh warm and hearty. The corners of Byleth’s mouth twitched upward at the sound. Her father didn’t laugh enough._

_10 minutes later, Jeralt and Byleth found the match postings. Byleth’s group didn’t have any opponents of note, to her slight disappointment. At least she could save most of her energy for the single-elimination rounds…_

_Already stretched, Byleth warmed up a bit with her father, not fully extending her strikes or putting as much enthusiasm into her lunges as she would in a bout. Jeralt had taught her all she knew about fencing, and it showed. Despite his aging, he was still as formidable an opponent as any she had ever faced. His strength was absolutely unrivaled, the Blade Breaker in all his glory. While she couldn’t exactly mimic his style due to her being a woman, and a rather average-sized one at that, she had developed her own technique, combining Jeralt’s excellent form and power with her own absolute speed and precision._

_“Attention, all competitors. The tournament will commence in 20 minutes. Please make your way to your respective event check-in immediately,” a voice boomed over the loudspeaker. Byleth and Jeralt packed up their sabers, replacing them in Byleth’s duffle, before approaching the saber check-in area. There, she was given a contestant number, had her equipment checked, and was sent to the waiting area. “Your bout will be second. Good luck,” the man at registration said to her with a bright smile. She didn’t smile back, though she wished she could. The emotion simply wasn’t strong enough for her to emote._

_After what seemed like forever, she was finally called for her bout. Approaching the piste, she saw that her opponent was a plain brown-haired boy of average build, his uniform declaring his affiliation with the Western Church Fencing Club. Byleth sighed. This was going to be too easy. After the officials had tethered both contestants to the body cords and the sensor had been checked, the referee signaled them to take position._

_“En garde!” Byleth lowered her mask onto her face and swished her saber in an arc. Her view through the mesh of her mask was like a calming force, preparing her for victory at any cost, reminding her of the rush of adrenaline and speed that was fencing._

_“Prêt!” Byleth closed her eyes, the sounds of the cheering crowd fading away in her focus. She took position, right foot in front, knee bent, her left behind her with the foot turned out. Her saber was held in front of her, elbow bent, left hand flared backward._

_“Allez!” Byleth lunged._

* * *

_Byleth won all 8 round-robin matches without incident, hardly even breaking a sweat. The double-elimination round had been a little more difficult, a big man named Kostas giving her a bit of trouble. Nonetheless, Byleth was undefeated going into the quarter-finals._ This was when it truly mattered. She could not lose.

_Her quarter-final match was against an angry redhead named Miklan, who had knocked her around pretty good. She was sure to have bruises for weeks. He had hit like a demonic beast…_

_Her semifinal opponent gave her some pause, however. Glenn Frauldarius, famous scion of the Blue Lions of Faerghus, was renowned for his skills with the saber. He fancied himself some kind of knight, but not without good reason. He was_ good. _Better than good, in fact._

_She was better. In a 13-15 match full of lightning-quick jabs and brutal slashes, Byleth reigned victorious._

_In position on the piste for the final match, Byleth stared into the cornflower blue eyes of her opponent. He stared back at her without an ounce of fear. Jeritza, reigning saber champion. He was the only thing standing between her and the national title. As the officials tested the equipment, the pair never once broke their staring contest, neither of them relenting._

_“So, you’re the Ashen Demon,” he said with a smirk. “I hope you live up to your reputation. I’m looking forward to this fight, and it would be disappointing to find you a lacking opponent.”_

_Byleth simply stared back at him, blank-faced, not fazed in the least._

_“Ah, it seems they’ve got the expressionless part right, at least.”_

_In a monotone, Byleth finally replied. “That is not the part you should be concerned with.” Jeritza’s smirk faltered, if only slightly. Reaching behind him, he tightened his long, light brown ponytail, his teeth bared._

_“En garde!” Byleth finally broke their premature bout of wills to lower her face mask._

_“Prêt!” Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, she unfolded her body into position._

_“Allez!” With the speed of a striking asp, Byleth lunged forward, her saber just barely missing Jeritza’s torso as he sidestepped her thrust. Fishing for an opening, Jeritza replied with a slash at her midsection, which she effortlessly parried with a sweep of her saber, establishing the right of way. With a quick riposte, she managed to catch him in the fractional opening he left and strike his left side with the tip of her blade. Her contact with his lamé set off the buzzer. First point for Byleth._

_Returning to their starting positions, they started the process over again, this time with Jeritza launching a more aggressive attack, forcing Byleth backward and away from his long reach. In an unexpected move, he counterattacked her thrust with a slash to her mask powerful enough to knock her off-balance. Second point for Jeritza._

_The bout continued this way for some time, the pair neck-in-neck for the victory, neither one clearly dominating the other. A thrust here, a slash there, a clever parry here, and a vicious riposte there. Finally, Byleth was able to take a more substantial lead, her endurance from long hours training with her father outdoing Jeritza’s own. With the score at 11-14, it was finally match point, and Byleth was not going to give it up. Now accustomed to Jeritza’s aggressive, yet graceful style, Byleth was able to pinpoint the openings he left and monopolize on them, so she took the defensive to start. Jeritza exploded towards her with a quick thrust, which she parried and followed with a slash at his left arm. Pulling the arm back, Jeritza lunged low in a fancy maneuver meant to leave her head open for attack and waited for her to throw her torso back in anticipation. She wouldn’t fall for such tricks. With a leap in the air, she flew over Jeritza’s outstretched blade, turning in the air and bringing her blade down on his exposed back with all of her might. The buzzer declared her victory._

_The crowd exploded in applause, and Jeritza collapsed with a groan. Pulling her blade away, Byleth turned her back and walked away from the piste, liftung her face mask. Her face remained expressionless, despite her excitement at winning. As she made her exit, Jeritza threw one more attack at her, this one verbal. “You truly are the Ashen Demon. No remorse. No morals. No emotion. Inhuman.”_

_The last part of his comment made her stop in her tracks for just a moment as it sank in._ Inhuman. Was she inhuman? Was that why she could not show a lick of emotion? _More hurt than anyone would ever know, she exited the arena, the echoes of her cursed moniker following her like a condemnation._

* * *

_Byleth found her father quickly after she left the arena. He was waiting just outside the exit, carrying her duffle with a huge smile on his face. Her lips curling up in her own version of a smile, she linked arms with her father, carrying both her own saber and the fancy decorative one she had received as her prize for winning the tournament. Unzipping the bag, Jeralt held it out for his daughter to throw both weapons in, which she quickly obliged._

_“Great work out there, kid. I’m proud of you.” Jeralt patted his daughter on the back in a warm congratulations, causing her small smile to grow infinitesimally._

_“Thanks, dad.” Her father’s answering grin was so wide and bright that you could have seen it from a mile away. He ruffled his daughter’s hair affectionately and pulled her closer to his side._

_As the pair approached the exit, they were stopped by the presence of a tall, burly man with long brown hair and bright baby blue eyes._

_Byleth’s father stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw him, a look of absolute dread coming over his face. “Ugh… Why him.”_

_Byleth looked at her father with a mix of curiosity and puzzlement._ Who was this man to leave her father, who was seemingly unshakable, so distressed?

_The man’s blue eyes lit up the moment he made eye contact with her father, seeming to have the complete opposite expression. It was almost laughable. “Captain Jeralt?! It is you! Goodness, it’s been ages.” Her father seemed to be steeling himself. For what, Byleth had no idea. “Don’t you recognize me? It’s Alois! Your old right-hand man! Well, that’s how I always thought of myself anyway.” From the expression on her father’s face, he certainly did not hold the same opinion, but chose to keep his mouth closed._

_Full of energy, the big man continued. “Oh, it must have been 20 years ago that you went missing without a trace. I always knew you were still around!”_

_With an exasperated sigh and a shake of his head, Jeralt finally deigned to reply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You haven’t changed a bit, Alois. Just as loud as ever. And drop that ‘captain’ nonsense. I’m not your captain anymore. These days I’m just a wandering bounty hunter. One who has a job to get back to. Goodbye, old friend.” Captain? What had her father been captain of?_

_Alois looked thoroughly put out, disappointment seeping from his every pore. “Right… Goodbye, Captain.” As Byleth and Jeralt began to walk away, seemed to suddenly jerk out of a stupor. “Wait! This isn’t how this ends. I insist that you return to the university with me!”_

_Jeralt took on a distant, contemplative look. “Garreg Mach University… I suppose this was inevitable.” His gaze remaining far away as Alois shifted his attention to Byleth._

_“And how about you, kid? Are you the captain’s child?” Despite the warning look her father gave her, the man was simply too jovial for Byleth not to respond. “That is correct,” she replied in her usual monotone._

_With a hearty chuckle, Alois looked between her and her father. “Is that so? Well, physical differences aside, your mannerisms do remind me of the captain.” Looking only at Byleth now, he said, “I’d love for you to see the university too. You will join me, won’t you?”_

_After a moment’s pause, Byleth nodded. Her father seemed to have a history with the university, and she was curious to find out more. Jeralt had never divulged much information about his past, and she was dying to know what he was keeping from her._

_Seeing his daughter’s response, Jeralt closed his eyes and sighed, seeming to give up on his reluctance to accept Alois’ proposition. Looking at her more closely, Alois jumped with a start._

_“Oh my! I don’t know how I didn’t recognize you before! You’re the Ashen Demon, aren’t you?” Byleth winced, but reluctantly nodded. “Ah, you won that tournament so beautifully! Exquisite work! And that move at the end was simply incredible!”_

_Never one for flattery, Byleth simply stared back at Alois. Unbothered by her expressionless stare, Alois continued on. “This works out perfectly! You’re actually just the person I was looking for.”_

Huh. Why would he be looking for her?

 _“I know you’re only 16, but I’d like to formally offer you a full 4-year scholarship to Garreg Mach University to join our fencing team. As you’ve proven today, you would make an invaluable asset to the team, and we’d love to have you.” Byleth was shocked._ A scholarship? To a prestigious university like Garreg Mach?

_“Whaddya say, kid?”_

_Byleth was baffled beyond belief, but she was also thrilled. This was an incredible opportunity. She would be able to fence, for a_ university _, for free. How could she say no? A quick glance at her father informed her that he was just as shocked as she was. Looking to him for an answer, he chuckled. “It’s your choice, By.”_

_“I’ll do it.”_

* * *

“I’ll do it,” Byleth said, suddenly looking up at Rhea.

The older woman smiled magnificently, her eyes beaming with delight. “Wonderful! I truly believe that you will be both a fantastic professor and coach. You have so much potential for greatness Byleth, and I think this is a great way for you to use it.”

Still a little unsure, Byleth smiled her small smile back at the Dean.

“I sure hope so.”

Byleth had a feeling she was going to regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed! Don't forget to leave kudos and/or a comment below! Also, if you have any requests for tropes, ships, scenes, etc that you'd like me to explore, feel free to drop them in the comments! Have a great Easter!


	3. Rumors of a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Along with Byleth's new teaching gig comes students, and students gossip. Byleth's heard about this "King of Coffee" far too many times not to assess his espresso-crafting skills for herself.  
> Dimitri can't stop thinking about his new professor, and it's not helping that she just strolled into the cafe that he works at...  
> Hilarity ensues (hopefully).
> 
> -or- Byleth really wants some good caffeine and Dimitri is tired of people's weird-ass drink orders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Britney Spears... OOPS I DID IT AGAIN. I guess I technically haven't done this on AO3, but I have on ff.net many, many times. In short, sorry for disappearing for 2 months. School sucks, but it's over now, and college awaits in the fall :) Not having a prom, senior trip, or graduation also sucks, but hey, I get to stay in my pajamas 24/7. You win some, and you lose some. I'm hoping now that I have plenty of time (yay, summer) and a solid direction I want to take this story, my updates will be more regular. I'm going to try for once a week, but I'm a very sporadic writer, so that may be a bit unrealistic (ex: I wrote the first 200-300 words of this chapter over a month ago, but wrote literally the other 2000 words today/tonight). In other news, I know it says in the tags that I'm not using a beta, but I've kinda realized I might be in need of one. If you are interested in beta reading and/or co-writing this story, shoot me a PM. I would be a very grateful human being :)))). WIthout further ado, here is (the likely disappointing) chapter 3!

This teaching gig was going better than Byleth had expected. _Much_ better, in fact. If she was being completely honest, she thought Rhea’s faith in her was completely misplaced and was convinced that she would flop within the first two weeks. Surprisingly, this was not the case.

Now, Byleth certainly wasn’t some _amazing_ professor, and nothing to write home about, but only two of her students slept through her class on a daily basis, and people actually came to her office hours with legitimate questions, so she’d call it a win. Perhaps it was because it takes a special kind of interest to enroll in a class on the history of military tactics… It wasn’t a class that was required for any of the school’s 52 majors or 38 minors (Byleth may or may not have read the university’s brochure cover to cover last week out of curiosity), so all of her students were willing victims. And yet, Hilda and Linhardt still found a way to sleep through half of her lectures. _Perhaps her class was boring after all…_

After wrapping up her Thursday afternoon lecture, a study on the genius battle tactics of Seiros the Great in the War of Heroes (quite well put-together, if she did say so herself), Byleth began the process of packing away her notes and papers, stacking them neatly before sliding them into her black messenger bag. As she turned off the lights and locked up the lecture hall, she couldn’t help but hear the gossip of passing students.

“You _have_ to go to The Faerghus Grind. There’s this guy there who makes the _best_ coffee you will ever try,” a short brunette gushed to the dark-skinned girl beside her.

“Are you talking about the King of Coffee? I’ve heard alllll about him. Everyone says he’s _super_ hot.” The dark-skinned girl grinned back at her friend, her tight, black curls bouncing as she walked.

“Of course I’m talking about the King of Coffee,” the brunette shot back, “no one else’s barista skills can even compare.”

“Or their muscles.” Both girls giggled at this, walking towards the quad and out of earshot. Byleth had been hearing a lot about this King of Coffee lately, and her curiosity just kept growing. _This guy must make_ some _coffee for so many people to gush about him like this._

At first, Byleth had thought that all of this talk about him boiled down to an attractive man in a barista apron, but when she heard even other boys talking about him with absolute reverence, she began to suspect that his moniker had more validity than she had initially given him credit for. _Can his coffee really be_ that _good?_ She supposed she would just have to find out for herself. Typing “The Faerghus Grind” into her maps app, Byleth began to walk away from the University proper and towards the marketplace, where she suspected the shop must be. Her phone listed it as only a 5-minute walk, to her relief.

3 minutes and 52 seconds later (she’s an abnormally fast walker), Byleth finds herself in front of a cute café with the words “The Faerghus Grind” posted in big, cursive letters on its brick facade, lit by fairy lights. It had one of those modern, but homey feels to it that Byleth loved in a coffee shop. Pushing the door open, a little bell rang over Byleth’s head as she stepped inside. The line was absolutely superfluous. She had never seen a queue at a coffee shop so long in her life, and she had been to Starbucks at 7 am on National Coffee Day. _Holy shit. What did I get myself into…?_

* * *

The sheer number of people in the shop today was absolutely ridiculous. Apparently, after the fainting incident, Dimitri’s reputation as the King of Coffee had become widespread. Every day, more and more people flooded the coffeeshop demanding to try his coffee (and he did not disappoint). Catherine had even appointed him to full-time barista duty, to his delight. He hated working the cash register. However, the number of drinks he was making per day had gotten a little out of hand as of late, and today was no exception.

Steeling himself to make at least another 50 drinks before his shift ended, Dimitri cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck. Inevitably, he found himself thinking about his new military tactics professor. She was absolutely gorgeous, and weirdly young for a college professor. If he had to wager, she was probably a graduate student, but it was very unusual for one to be given their own class. Nonetheless, she was an incredible teacher. She was thorough and informative, but always captivated her students with an aloof charm, despite her seeming lack of emotion. It was weird for someone as young as her to feel no nerves teaching their own classes, but Dimitri supposed that some people were just natural instructors and didn’t hold the same reservations and anxiety that he did. Her dark blue eyes seemed to hold an undimming sense of curiosity that sparked something deep inside of him. The way her curvy figure was showcased by her tight pencil skirts and-

“Helloooo?! Earth to Dimitri.” Sylvain snapped him out of his reverie, one of his hands waving a mere two inches in front of his face. Dimitri quickly batted away the redhead’s hand, a slight blush crawling across his cheeks as he realized where his thoughts had been going. Sylvain was quick to notice and smirked mischievously. “You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”

Dimitri feigned nonchalance. “Thinking about who?” he replied innocently.

“The new military history professor.” Dimitri froze, his blush turning even deeper as he spluttered.

“Wh-What? No! Of course not.” Sylvain’s smirk evolved into a full-blown Cheshire Cat grin at the blonde’s response.

“I knew it! She is _really_ hot, so I can see why you’re crushing on her so bad.”

“I am not, you heathenous skirt-chaser! And you shouldn’t be talking about our professor like that, Sylvain!”

Sylvain chuckled, throwing an arm around Dimitri’s shoulders. “I think we all have a bit of a thing for her, if we’re being honest. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Dimitri was about to give a flustered reply when Dorothea cleared her throat at the cash register and gestured to the stack of marked cups he was supposed to fill with caffeinated goodness. _Right…_

_Foolish, selfish boy. Disgusting pig. Forgetting even the job that's distracting you from your true task. Will you ever avenge us, or are you going to keep drooling over your own professor?_ Lambert was especially venomous today, but rightfully so. Dimitri was wrong for having this stupid schoolboy crush on the professor. He didn’t even really know her…

As he began the process of mixing drinks (3 caramel macchiatos, 2 vanilla lattes, an iced mocha, and a raspberry white chocolate frappe with extra whip and a pump of vanilla), he caught a flash of navy hair out of the corner of his eye as the door bell chimed and another customer walked in. _It can’t be…_

Sure enough, Professor Eisner stood at the back of the line, her expressionless face fixated on her phone. Dimitri was definitely not freaking out.

* * *

While Byleth’s first week teaching had been a bit hectic, standing in the enormous line at The Faerghus Grind gave her plenty of time to think. As of late, she’d been having very strange and vivid dreams, even more so than her ones about Sothis. Oddly enough, these dreams had featured the faces of many of her new students, but in foreign settings. She saw some of them fall in battle, both as allies and enemies. With others, she dreamed of sharing tea in a flowered courtyard and laughing in an unfamiliar dining hall. They were always wearing matching black and gold uniforms, unique to each individual, but all sharing the same motif. Rhea and Seteth wore strange, ornate regalia fit for royalty, rather than the business casual of Dean and Assistant Dean. She dreamed of a different Garreg Mach, one that seemed to be some kind of church, rather than a university. However, the scenes she remembered most of all centered around one person.

_Flashes of blonde hair as a tall boy sporting a royal blue cape twirled a spear around like it was the most natural thing in the world. A rare chuckle at a boisterous knight’s terrible jokes. Stolen glances of azure blue eyes at a ball, wishing they would meet her own. Traded promises under the moonlight. Strong arms around her in the midst of crushing grief. A lean body cutting down countless others in a fit of pure rage and betrayal, blue eyes alight with madness. Two eyes becoming one. A boy becoming a man. Unkempt golden hair, dark circles under one eye, a black eyepatch over the other. A massively tall man standing alone in a crumbling cathedral, a monstrous lance planted in the earth beside him. A rage that could move mountains hiding a grief that could stir the seas. Revenge becoming sadness in the pouring rain. A prince becoming a king to the roaring cheers of thousands. The end of a war. A knife in his shoulder, a lance through her chest. Two rings on that tower of promises. **Beloved.** Soft lips meeting her own, rough hands brushing over her hips as she-_

With a start, she realized she had reached the front of the line. A beautiful brunette stood at the cash register in front of her, who she recognized as one of her students, Dorothea, she thought. Her crushing green eyes lit up with a smile as she greeted her, her voice melodic. “Hi, Professor! Welcome to The Faerghus Grind. What can I get for you today?”

Byleth would have smiled back if she could. “Hi there. Dorothea, right?” Her student nodded, dangle earrings jingling with the motion. Her iconic black pageboy hat flopped a bit on her head. “Is the… ‘King of Coffee’ in today?” she asked stoically.

Dorothea chuckled, eyes alight with amusement. “Ah, so I see you’ve heard the rumors too, Professor. He is indeed here today,” she replied, gesturing to the coffee bar on her left. The barista, who she assumed was the supposed King of Coffee, was hard at work crafting drinks, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his azure blue eyes as he capped a drink. His face was the most handsome she’d ever seen, smooth, yet chiseled, with an air of royalty to it. His white shirt and blue apron were just a _bit_ too tight, leaving none of his slim, muscular torso to the imagination. His nametag did, in fact, read ‘The King of Coffee’. Once again, flashes of soft lips and rough hands flashed through her mind before she pushed them away. It was the boy-turned-man from her dreams.

Mentally sweeping her lingering thoughts and sense of comfort and familiarity under the rug, she turned back to Dorothea, giving the busty brunette her order. “I’ll have a caffé latte. Little bit of vanilla.”

Dorothea gave her a little wink and wrote her order on a cup. “Coming right up. It’s on the house.” Byleth halfheartedly protested, but Dorothea waved her off. “What name should I write?”

Sighing, the professor answered, “Byleth.”

* * *

Dimitri had gone into full all-work-no-play barista mode after the subject of his thoughts had strolled into the café with all of the grace of a trained warrior. She was always so light on her feet, her steps purposeful. Dimitri suspected that she was a former athlete of some sort. A dancer, maybe?

_Aaaaaand here I go again thinking about her. I was doing so well…_

_You certainly weren’t,_ Glenn was quick to interject. _Just because you know how to mix drinks doesn’t mean you’re not pathetic. When will your coffee frother be enough to avenge us? Never._

Dimitri shook his head, as if to ward off his dead friend, and went back to the task at hand. _So many high-maintenance people. Who the hell orders a venti triple shot, half sweet, non-fat caramel macchiato with two extra pumps of sugar-free caramel syrup and one pump of vanilla?_ Nonetheless, it was his job, so he catered to the extreme and entitled orders of his happily overpaying customers. There was nothing he and Areadbhar couldn’t handle.

His next order might have been even worse than the last. A venti, half and half, half-caff soy latte with 10 pumps of vanilla and extra whip at exactly 120 degrees? _Who did these people think he was, the King of Coffee??? Oh, wait…_

His next order felt like the only normal one he had taken all day. A caffé latte with a touch of vanilla. Now, that he could do, no problem. If Dimitri had any sense of taste, this would probably be his sort of drink: simple, yet delicious. As a thank you to this wonderful customer for not being a coffee lunatic, this was going to be the best caffé latte he’d ever made. Twirling Areadbhar like a weapon, Dimitri got to work.

Moving to the espresso machine, Dimitri placed a cup under the nozzle and set it to brew 2 shots. Waiting for the coffee to brew, Dimitri poured precisely 2 cups of the shop’s freshest 2% milk (he checked all of the expiration dates, of course) and put Areadbhar to work, careful to turn it off once the milk had reached optimum frothiness. Next, he delicately added a touch of his sweet vanilla blend (made fresh every morning by His Highness) and lightly stirred the vanilla-milk mixture, being sure not to disturb the froth. Moving back to the espresso machine, he poured the mixture into the espresso before topping it off with a light cream feather and a touch of cinnamon. Securing the lid on the cup, Dimitri turned to hand the drink to Sylvain, who had conveniently disappeared. _Great._ Turning the cup around to read the name, he called it out himself. “I have a caffé latte for Byleth.”

_What a lovely name,_ Dimitri thought. What he didn’t expect was his hot, new military tactics professor to stroll up to him, hips lightly swishing. _Goddess, I am so royally fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho ho, a (sort of) cliffhanger! :))) I'm hoping this serves as motivation for me to stick with a schedule and update relatively quickly *fingers crossed*. I know I already asked in the beginning notes, but please, please PM me if you are interested in beta reading and/or co-writing. I will give you my firstborn child as payment.  
> Let me know what you thought of the chapter! Is the dreaming concept too meta? Are Glenn and Lambert mean enough to Dimitri (bless his poor soul)? Any request for the next chapter? Also, I'm thinking of making this into a podfic as well. Thoughts? Let me know in the comments! As always, your comments, kudos, and bookmarks mean the world to me!
> 
> On a (kinda) random note, I finished Cindered Shadows last month (wow, that was a long time ago, wasn't it?) and looooved the characters and story, so I will probably add them into the story. Also, I started a New Game+ with the Golden Deer and have already recruited 8 people, but no matter how many Blue Lions I recruit, I feel so sad without my baby Dima :((( I felt so bad about taking almost his entire house, so I'm leaving Ingrid, Annette, and Dedue to be his friends :))) 
> 
> See y'all soon!  
> -Kat


	4. The Consequences of Spilled Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri has a *slight* coffee mishap and Sylvain gets slut-shamed (oops)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you guys sooooo much for 500 (almost 600!) hits and 50 kudos! It means the world to me. This chapter is ridiculously short, and I sincerely apologize. It took me freaking forever to write for absolutely no reason. The quality and quantity are both questionable, and it's not been edited at all, but I suppose that something is better than nothing? I mean, at least I stuck to my update schedule... A special shoutout to Lunafox90 for inspiring part of this chapter and for being the greatest commenter ever :))) Anyway, I hope you enjoy! It's a total freaking mess, but so is the world right now, so oh well. :?

Dimitri had been told time and time again how “charming” he was. In fact, he had even been called “princely” at one time or another for his immaculate manners and unfaltering composure. However, all of this charisma appeared to go right out of the window in the face of his incredibly gorgeous military history professor walking up to the coffee pickup counter. His brain seemed to have short-circuited, and his body was frozen with Professor Eisner’s coffee clutched in his hand. She was there, and she was beautiful, and _wow_ was he infatuated. _Get it together, Dimitri!_ He was mentally beating himself up, but it seemed that this didn’t translate to his body. Goddess, if simply seeing his professor outside of the classroom put him into such an intense state of shock, how was he ever going to bring his family’s killer to justice? It’s not as if her presence at the coffee counter should have shocked him, considering he’d seen her in the line, but something about the situation made him involuntarily freeze up. He could almost see the error message flashing in his mind: _dimitri.exe has stopped working._

Suddenly, she was right in front of him, her expression dream-like and blank at the same time, and he had to do _something._ Unfortunately, that something was gripping the cup so hard that the lid flew about 3 feet in the air and the latte spilled all over the counter and his uniform. Time seemed to resume in a frenzy as piping hot liquid splashed all over his chest and legs. _Curse my ridiculous strength._ He jerked at the heat, transported to another time and place, where a building smoldered all around him and screams echoed off the walls—

“Oh, Goddess, are you okay?” He was shocked out of his PTSD-induced stupor by the smooth timbre of her smoky voice. Despite Professor Eisner’s seemingly blank face, there was concern in her eyes as she grabbed a fistful of napkins and shoved them in his general direction. Chaotically flustered from the unfortunate combination of events that had just transpired, Dimitri hurriedly grabbed the napkins and began to pat at his ruined uniform. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I’m so, so sorry about that. I’ll make you a new drink right away, Professor. How much do I owe you?” Dimitri was absolutely mortified at what had transpired and was adamant about making up for it in any way possible, including sacrificing some of his meager paycheck on his professor’s overpriced coffee.

In response, Professor Eisner tilted her head slightly, confusion clear in her eyes. “What would you owe me for?”

Dimitri let out a faintly amused huff at the stark difference between his professor and every other entitled asshole who frequented The Faerghus Grind. Yet another reason he liked her… “Your drink, of course. I know they’re ridiculously overpriced. It was entirely my fault that your drink ended up all over--” Dimitri waved a hand to indicate his coffee-stained uniform “--you know, so it’s only fair that I pay for it. I insist.”

Professor Eisner shook her head and muttered something about “everyone in this Goddess-forsaken café wanting to pay for her shit” under her breath. “As much as I appreciate the gesture, Dorothea already insisted on putting my drink on the house. I think you’d better put your money towards getting a new uniform. Coffee rarely comes out of whites. Besides, I came to judge the skills of this ‘King of Coffee’ I’ve been hearing so much about lately. I was prepared to pay the premium.” Despite her mostly flat tone, Dimitri could have sworn he detected a hint of teasing in her voice.

Smiling a bit to himself, he nodded his head in thanks. Not only was she stunning and an amazing professor, but she was also both kind and funny. Dimitri added this to his mental list of the professor’s finer qualities. “I’ll get your new drink made right away, Professor.”

* * *

After standing face-to-face with the heralded King of Coffee, Byleth finally realized why he looked so familiar, aside from his frequent appearances in her dreams. He was one of her students. If she remembered correctly, he was in her Tuesday and Thursday morning classes and sat in the back row. He was extremely attentive and clearly intelligent, but there was an underlying darkness beneath his put-together façade. She could see it in his eyes in moments when he thought the world wasn’t watching. She knew the look of someone deeply affected by trauma from growing up around bounty hunters, who saw their fair share of fucked up shit, and the boy with those haunted azure blue eyes clearly had it bad. _What was his name again? Something very Faerghan… Alexei? Yuri? No, Yuri was the kid in her Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes with the light purple hair and eyeshadow… Goddess, she was so terrible with names… Dimitri! That was it…_

Byleth looked up to see Dimitri hard at work re-making her drink. She felt horrible for him. He’d already spilled scorching hot coffee all over himself in front of his military history professor, so she felt like painstakingly re-making the latte was just insult to injury. Grabbing another fistful of napkins, she began mopping up the pool of coffee on the counter. That is, until a tall redheaded man ran out from the back room.

“Oh, miss, please allow me to clean up this mess.” His smile was clearly equipped for womanizing purposes, but Byleth simply ignored it (which wasn’t terribly difficult when you can’t emote properly) and continued sopping up the coffee with her pile of napkins. She knew exactly who he was. Byleth had only been teaching for a couple of weeks, but Sylvain had already managed to terrorize both her and her female students at her office hours frequently enough that she’d had to call him into her office to have a private discussion with him about his actions, especially after he’d sent a girl running from her office in tears. She’d never heard anyone more full of shit in her life… _“I don’t understand why she’s so upset that I’m dating other girls. She didn’t care before she found out, so why does she care now?”_ She’d thought him to be a complete jerk and an utter buffoon after that, but after observing him more closely, she’d come to the conclusion that Sylvain Gautier was more than meets the eye.

“It’s alright, I’ve already almost finished cleaning this up,” Byleth told him. “How are you, Sylvain?”

The redhead leaned down to rest his elbows on the counter and put his chin on his hands. “I’m doing pretty well professor, thanks for asking. You know, I happen to have some exquisite tea back in my dorm room. You could come by, and… we could chat about love,” he said with a saccharine smile.

Byleth just about facepalmed in response but settled for a quiet huff and a shake of her head. “First of all, Sylvain, that would be wildly inappropriate considering I’m your professor. Second, we both know that it’s not _love_ you want to talk about.”

While Sylvain squawked and furrowed his brow in offense, his jaw dropping in seeming outrage, Dimitri happened to walk by on his way to the espresso machine and had to muffle his scandalized, but amused guffaw behind his hand. It seemed the blonde was similarly concerned with Sylvain’s hoe status.

“Calm down—it was only a joke! You’ve really got no sense of humor, you know that?” Sylvain rebutted, lip pouty and arms crossed over his chest. It seemed Dimitri had just finished re-making her drink, as he snapped the lid on and walked over to the counter yet again—albeit more cautiously this time—to scoff and remark, “I beg to differ.”

Sylvain somehow managed to pout even more before walking away, muttering under his breath. “Well, that backfired…”

Focusing her attention on Dimitri, Byleth warned, “For your own sake, I think you should put the drink down as soon as possible.” Dimitri’s cheeks flushed in the most adorable way as he took her advice and carefully set the caffé latte on the counter, pushing it towards her.

As she reached for the drink, she looked right into those spectacular azure eyes of his. “Thank you,” she said, quietly, but with conviction. Dimitri looked right back into her own blue eyes and smiled, giving her a small nod. “It was the least I could do.”

Still staring into his eyes, Byleth took the first sip of her latte. After a brief pause, her eyes widened, and she looked down at the cup she was drinking from. It was like heaven on her taste buds. There was a perfect blend of sweet cream, strong, bitter coffee, and vanilla that balanced to create the most delightful flavor. While she’d always liked coffee, she’d never thought of it as a delicacy, and the drink in her hand could be described no other way.

Looking back up at Dimitri, she spoke only the truth. “Shit. You really are the King of Coffee.”

Dimitri didn’t think he’d ever smiled that wide in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for this week! Don't forget to drop some kudos and/or a comment!


	5. Things Best Left Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth's days have become immeasureably exhausting. Truth be told, the only thing getting her through them is quality coffee from none other than the King of Coffee. After a series of strange dreams and sleepless nights, Byleth wakes up for another early morning fencing practice, where she bemoans the state of her team and finds herself caught up in memories she'd rather have left behind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, to myself in June: Pshhhhh, this weekend my ass.  
> Whoa. It's, um, been a while. Life has been kind of insane for the last 6 months (it's been 6 months????). Between starting college, the COVID-19 pandemic, family drama, and anxiety out the wazoo, things have been pretty hectic on my end. I am so pleasantly surprised to come back to 70! kudos and 950!! :0 hits??? ( I appreciate you readers so, so much). I actually started drafting this chapter in July, but I hit a major wall in terms of where I want to take the story ( a wall I honestly still have not broken down fully) and eventually ran out of time to write once the summer ended. I opened my draft of this chapter countless times with the intention to finally finish it, but could never bring myself to add more than a handful of words. For some reason, my brain just nagged at me incessantly today to write the rest of this chapter, though, so here we are! It's very short, and honestly doesn't have much substance, but I feel like this is at least a good start to getting out of the hole I've been in for so long in terms of writing. Better something than nothing, and better late than never, I suppose... Enjoy!

It had been a full week since Byleth first visited The Faerghus Grind, and she’d found herself frequenting the shop every day since. She wasn’t sure if it was really the coffee or her curiosity about the man from her dreams (Dimitri, she mentally reminded herself), but she couldn’t stop herself from going back day after day. This had given her the chance to try several different menu items (Byleth was always the adventurous type, and never turned down an opportunity to try something new), and none of them had disappointed her, so far. Perhaps because they were all handcrafted by the King of Coffee himself…

Now that fencing practices had begun, she found herself reaching exhaustion by the end of each day. Early mornings and late nights weren’t a great combination, and she’d come to rely on the daily dose of caffeine. Without it, she wouldn’t be surprised if she found herself asleep on her feet before the sun fully set. The daily trip to the café had become her crutch and her respite. To make things worse, she rarely got a full night’s sleep, despite her constant fatigue. It was a bit hard to sleep when she found herself constantly waking up in a cold sweat, flashes of screams and death lingering behind her eyes. She could never remember the entirety of her all too vivid dreams, just scattered fragments that filled her with a simultaneous feeling of unease and happiness. Many nights, she found herself unable to return to her slumber, and simply tossed and turned for the remaining hours until she had to be awake to lead fencing practices, staring at the blank, white walls of her apartment as if they would divulge the answers she so desperately wanted.

Fencing wasn’t going as swimmingly as she’d hoped, either. Many of this year’s athletes were generally unskilled, and didn’t have the passion to turn that bit of natural talent they possessed into something more, something that would allow them to actually _win_ a few of their matches. There were, however, a few prodigies within the generally mediocre group. Felix, brother to the rising star, Glenn Frauldarius, of the Blue Lions, was absolutely wicked with a saber, but had an uncontrollable rage that made him far too rash to ever be successful in the sport without something to temper him. Petra, an international student from Brigid, was extraordinarily fast, but seemed a bit unfamiliar with Fόdlan’s style of fighting. Byleth was still unsure which weapon she should direct her towards, as she showed some proficiency in all of them, but lacked any spectacular finesse in any of them in particular. As of now, she was leaning towards saber, as she may as well teach the blade she was most comfortable with, and Petra’s dexterity would lend to it well. Sylvain Gautier, that smug, flirtatious bastard (no, she had not forgotten the little stunt he pulled at The Grind), often slacked off at practice, but Byleth was fairly impressed by his skill with the épée. She also had a sneaking suspicion that his arrogance was simply a mask, but she dared not pry beneath for fear of how the tall redhead would react. Ingrid had the same skill as Sylvain and twice as much drive, which would likely make her a more valuable asset to the team. The determination behind her hard green eyes was almost palpable.

The rest of the athletes she had to work with were… considerably less skilled, and many of them worked with the foil, Byleth’s least favorite blade. She’d make do, though, she supposed. It would just take a little more work from her than she’d anticipated when she agreed to this job. At least she was getting paid…

Stifling a yawn, Byleth stepped behind a somewhat clumsy second year girl and offhandedly corrected her form. _She was keeping far too much tension in her wrist. She’d never strike her opponent quick enough for a point with a death grip like that…_ Seeming almost startled, the girl quickly slackened her wrist a bit, her grip still far too tight, but much better than it was before. Satisfied enough with the girl’s correction for the moment, she nodded her head in approval and muttered a simple, “good,” before stepping away from her and assessing the rest of the gym.

Sylvain and Ingrid were trading casual strikes with the ease of long-time practice partners, the ginger occasionally throwing teasing quips at the visibly annoyed blonde, while Felix went on an aggressive offensive one pisque over, which Petra parried with grace. Despite their similar skill sets, the latter pair were in almost perfect contrast. While the lithe, dark-haired Faerghan lunged with wild, forceful strikes, the Brigid girl was light on her toes and used her opponent’s strength for her own gain, her long, berry-colored hair swaying with each of her dancing movements. He was fire, and she water, yet they flowed around each other seamlessly. Byleth unconsciously listened for the hiss of steam she was sure should be rising from the spot where their sabers met with every strike they exchanged.

Turning to the other side of the gym, she sighed at the mediocrity of the rest of the team. Oh, how this team had degraded in the two years since she’d competed on it…

Unbidden, her mind conjured memories of days past: _a silver-haired girl’s arm tenderly wrapped around her shoulders as she walked away from another competition victorious, a husky laugh in response to something decidedly_ not funny _she’d said, soft lips lingering on her own, a silvery trace work of scars over pale skin, whispered promises of a better world,_ togethe _r… The bitter tang of betrayal, cold violet eyes, a bouquet of lilies brutally discarded in the decrepit corner of a run-down apartment._

A bit dazed, she shook her head as if to fling the images far away, not wanting a reminder of that which was dead and gone. Eyes still unfocused, she blew her whistle, demanding the attention of her athletes. “Everyone, line up for conditioning. Today, we’re focusing on core strength. You will never attain the strength or speed you want in your strikes without a solid core to support and power them.”

There was a small chorus of groans in response, but the students reluctantly formed four lines and spaced themselves out across the gym. Lowering herself to the ground, Byleth prepared for the steadying burn that accompanies a _good_ workout. “We’ll start with planks. Everyone get in position. We’re going to do 3 for a minute and a half each. Starting…now.”

Byleth hoisted herself onto her elbows, her body flat, and let her worries drift away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...'tis the chapter, hopefully not too long awaited. I hope that you enjoyed it, at least a little bit! Things are getting kinda spicyyyyyy (What's the deal with these weird dreams? Why did By only fence for 2 years? A past relationship with a certain silver-haired gal who may or may not be the House Leader of the Black Eagles? What went down?) Don't forget to leave kudos and/or a comment!!! Comments are essentially my creative fuel, and I appreciate each and every one of them :D Until next time (whenever that may be...)!

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for this chapter! I hope you guys liked it, and I would really appreciate your feedback! Drop a comment, whether it's just your thoughts, suggestions, criticism, whatever you feel like. I think this fic will probably end up about 20-30 chapters long, depending on whether the ideas keep flowing or not. I think I should have another chapter posted by this weekend. Until then, goodbye, my lovelies :)


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